


Sinfín | Endless

by brittlestars



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barrisco and Barriscowest compliant, Cisco Ramon Needs A Hug, Cisco finally gets a hug, Gen, Sensory Overload, Your daily reminder that Cisco Ramon is a hugely powerful metahuman just coming into his powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlestars/pseuds/brittlestars
Summary: Cisco crash-lands back into his body following an overwhelming vibe. Barry is there to catch him.





	Sinfín | Endless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenglowsgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenglowsgold/gifts).



> This is a gift for greenglowsgold, who has written some phenomenal Cisco fic. In particular this work was inspired by (but does not approach the greatness of): http://greenglowsgold.tumblr.com/post/144831299300/this-is-when-it-happens-now

"What did you see?"

But Cisco was still reeling, blinking. Reorienting to color, and gravity, and sound and air and the texture of this world.

It wasn't "seeing," it was _being_. Just... different. Suddenly _being_ in another time and place, sometimes _being_ another body. Taller or shorter, happier or quieter, not himself.

More recently, vibes meant drifting free, untethered and washed over by endless other worlds. Returning from a vibe was like crash-landing into his human body. His senses echoed and reverberated, shuddered on impact.

Barry was in his face, concern creasing his brow, the corners of his eyes. "Cisco?"

"Hmm...?"

"You vibed."

A slow, hollow blink. "Yea."

"What did you see?"

Cisco swallowed. Everything. He saw... everything. A vast network, ripples on ripples, worlds and timelines intersecting like strands in a web, like ley lines in the great probability density field that was the multiverse. He knew enough physics not to think his world was the center of the everything, to know Earth was just a slightly more interesting rock in a vast and unfeeling expanse, but the sheer scale of the vibe, with its many-layered infinities...

"Everything," Cisco breathed. His knees were about to give out; he covered by sitting abruptly on the lab stool.

Barry's face cycled from concern to confusion to a grin at rapid speed. "Everything? Alright," he patted Cisco on the shoulder. "Let me know when you want to share with the class."

Cisco's eyes turned down. With no way to explain, he turned his body -- his body, on this Earth, at this time -- back to the gadget parts on his desk. If he reached to pick up a screwdriver he wasn't certain that he'd actually be able to touch it. How could he know he wasn't a ghost?

He looked at his hands, watching as his fingers slowly clenched, then unclenched. Muscles and blood and sinew and skin, he thought, real pieces. I'm a real boy! he thought, the words echoing in Pinocchio's voice. He heard a sound and, after a moment, recognized that it was laughter bubbling over, pouring out of him.

He might be a real boy, but he still felt like a puppet. When a vibe could come along at any moment, jerk the strings of his consciousness, sweep him away to--

\--to where? His mind was frozen in a loop, halfway between trying to comprehend what he'd just experienced and trying to block it out. It had been beautiful. There were still tears in his eyes.

Laughter was as good a response as any.

He realized belatedly that he should probably get control over himself. Barry was giving him side-eye. But the thought of having control was so out of reach that it made him laugh harder, desperation folding him over at the waist to lean his head on his forearms on the workbench.

He gasped, unable to get a full breath between the laughter and the tears. Everything. He'd seen everything and it was so beautiful.

How could he come back to being, after having been so wide, so grand? He wanted desperately to be good. To help. To mend and repair and solve problems with curiosity and wit and insight, with a well-timed joke and a big smile and a tight hug.

Caffeine and oxytocin and friendship could save the world, he had thought. Back then. Back before he'd re-lived his own death a hundred times, before he was groping blindly on a knife edge that could throw him into the memory of yet a hundred more deaths. Or disasters. Or mundane could-bes where brothers lived and teased and ordered beers and played piano.

His laugh died on his lips, not strangled but simply fading away. Faced with every possible outcome having happened, still happening, how could any choice possibly matter? What were caffeine and oxytocin and movie quotes and friendship in the face of an immeasurable multiverse?

He contained the multiverse. How could any person, any moral, any ideal or hope or stray and single dream stand against that?

"Cisco."

There was a hand was on his shoulder, firm, heavy. Cisco decided that if the touch pushed him into another vibe, he'd let go. He'd drown in the deep, not bothering to claw his way back.

"Cisco," the voice repeated.

Cisco turned his head slowly toward the figure standing over him. The image was watery, blurred. Oh, right: tears in his eyes.

Even without the suit, even with careful, deliberate gestures and no lightning in his eyes, Barry Allen had an otherworldly feel. Cisco couldn't understand why their CCPD coworkers didn't see him as the Flash immediately. His power was overwhelming, alien.

And yet, so warm. Beyond real, Barry was hyperreal. Barry was capable of going anywhere, being anywhere in an instant, and yet he chose to exist here: anchored, steady, sure.

Wordless, Cisco lifted and spread his arms, fumbling to stand from the stool. Barry stepped into the hug, wrapping his long arms to hold Cisco upright. Cisco held his breath, trembling. Barry squeezed tighter, and then Cisco finally exhaled in a gasp-sigh-sob. He buried his face in Barry's shoulder. The too-soft fabric of Barry's sweatshirt smelled like Barry: familiar and well-worn, cozy and homey and real.

Working with the Flash was his wildest dreams come true: free reign over his own tech lab with a blank check and plenty of the coolest, newest toys; friends with an actual superhero with amazing powers. But that was the icing on the proverbial cake: in the arms of that superhero, he was reminded of what the would-be victims felt when the Flash saved them: safe.

They were doing good, he knew. Beneath everything that they'd weathered, Cisco himself weathering in private more than the others guessed, Cisco knew in his deepest heart that they were doing good, and this was what doing good felt like: it was a warm embrace. It was safe. It was unwavering friendship. It was the promise of hope.

In a multiverse that was far vaster and far more unfeeling than anyone else on the planet could ever know, Cisco had seen that it was hope that made every timeline live and breathe and sparkle. It was beautiful.

After several minutes Cisco had quieted but still pressed into Barry. Barry glanced up to the sound of soft footsteps to see Iris round the corner into the lab. He gave the slightest shake of his head. Iris paused, wide-eyed, and then nodded, backing off to find Caitlin. Cait immediately left to pick up a double order of smoothies and coffee, and Iris made sure to intercept HR.

Barry stayed.

**Author's Note:**

> I love how the concept of a "sinfín" associates perfectly with Cisco and his powers. Literally, "sinfín" translates from Spanish as "without end." Importantly, this word functions as a noun, and sounds and feels so much better in Spanish than "infinitude" or "infinity" do in English. For example: "Cisco has access to a sinfín of alternate worlds and timelines." 
> 
> When Cisco has trouble verbalizing what he's vibed, it's mostly because putting the scale of his powers into any kind of words is essentially impossible, but it's also partly because he's a better poet in Spanish than he is in English.


End file.
